Miroku's Birth Day
by somatogenic
Summary: It's Miroku's Birth Day. He's feeling a tad old next to his younger compainions. Will the 'younger compainions' help? or just make him feel worse? Sango/Miroku fluff inside (well a little) SECOND CHAPTER UP!
1. Happy Birth Day to Miroku?

**Miroku's Birth Day  
Part Two**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sango had gone to wash her face off.  
Well, more like to cool it, but she wasn't going to admit to that.  
  
A sound over back by the camp.  
It was coming towards her.  
She listened.  
Ringing + heavy footsteps = Houshi-pervert.  
  
She sighed.  
What did he want?  
  
Probably a reason for hugging' him said an annoyingly rational part of her brain.  
She ignored it.  
  
  
Miroku walked over to her, well, quietly as one could when you carry a staffwith six rings on it, clanking into each other's metal mates.  
  
Some times he wished he could just throw the damned thing away.  
  
He smiled sadly as he saw her body tense with the sound of his arrival.   
  
  
he said quietly, coming to a stop in front of her.  
  
she said intelligently', confused.  
  
For cheering me up, he smiled with his infamous slanted grin, making Sango blush slightly.  
  
He didn't know why, he loved doing that to her, making her blush, he thought while leaning on his staff and taking a good look at her, smiling all the while.  
  
Him looking at her unnerved her, and not knowing why, unnerved her even more, so:  
Will you stop staring at me! she snapped, blushing, quite literally snapping' Miroku out of his trance. Miroku laughed at Sango's angry blushing face, and at himself. He was twenty and she was only what, sixteen, seventeen?   
  
Oh great, said Sango suddenly, her sharp voice dripping with sarcasm, derailing his thoughts for the second time that day.  
  
he asked, concerned.  
  
It's . . . it's nothing she said, voice making it obvious that it wasn't just nothing'.   
  
What Sango? he said gently, plopping beside her with a thump, completely counteracting the moment'.  
  
She turned towards him, suddenly furious.  
  
**It's my birth day today _too_**! she flared, turning towards him, anger not making her aware of how much was left between them, so she ended up practically spitting in his face.  
  
Miroku blinked, then laughed whole heartily, lying down on the ground to separate them, and after a while, making his sides hurt.  
  
It didn't help that Sango kept on yelling at him all the while What! What's so funny?!?  
Miroku gleefully managed to answer (between laughs):  
We have the same birth day!  
  
said the rest of the gang, over hearing yet again, coming over to see what the commotion was about.   
  
Sango sweatdroped while Miroku just laughed even harder.  
Miroku laughed because this was just all so stupidly ironic in some odd, twisted way that he didn't bother to figure out, knowing he would just get a huge head ach trying to figure all it out, since it also happened to be the way a lot of things happened, actually how every thing seemed to happen.  
(AN: That's what you get when you live in the mind and creative world of Rumiko  
Takahashi ^-^;)  
  
Later~  
  
As he was lying in his futon that night, he decided to think about what being twenty meant to him.  
It meant:  
**He was old** (Well, older than he had been)  
**He was old **(He could do more things)  
**He was old **(He now had many more responsibilities)   
**He was old** (He wasn't a teenager anymore, he was an adult)   
**He was old **(He had probably had just wasted about half of his life, maybe more)  
**He was old** (He would be going though one of those damned growth spurts again, most likely his last)  
  
He was just plain **old**.  
  
Once again, he had managed to depress himself.  
Again with the age issue too.  
  
He put his hands over his face, rubbing it with exhaustion, which didn't make him feel any better about being old.  
  
He had the urge to run over to a mirror and look for gray hairs.   
  
Asking someone else would just make him self feel dumber than he already felt.  
  
He remembered how much better Sango had made him feel.  
That gave him an idea.  
He knew she was still awake.  
He could hear the swings of her sword hit again and again the dummy, which  
she pretended was Naraku.  
He knew she did that.  
If he had a sword, he would do that too, all the time.  
He clenched his cursed fist.  
Before getting side tracked (which he would often do to himself thinking of the bastered, Naraku)  
Not bothering to put on his outer purple and black outer robes (he has a white one underneath) he made his way over to the enraged clashing of sword against dummy.  
  
Sango sweated as she pulled her sword out of the mannequin, breathing hard when she heard the soft pad of naked feet on wood floor and swish of fabric.  
  
Who . . ? she thought out loud, when a deep voice silenced her  
  
It's me Sango, Miroku said quietly, close behind her.  
  
She spun around to look at him, but came face to face with him (in a manner of speaking, since he is a full head taller than her).  
  
Well . . . I came here to talk he said carefully, eyeing the sword in her hands, ready to slice though anything that got in it's way.  
  
She smiled almost evilly:  
Promise not to grope me and talk, and I'll put down the sword she glowered at him, looking out at him from behind her bangs and lowering her head.  
He smiled, and sat down on a bench.  
  
Do you promise? she asked dangerously, facing him with the sword.  
  
If you talk to me, he said sadly, although not realizing it.  
She did though.  
  
What's up? she asked, flopping down next to him, curious of what could make the houshi sound so sad.  
  
Well . . . he started, and then stopped.  
He was going to sound really stupid.  
  
You remember how I said to you that I felt . . . old? he asked, and suddenly noted the background noses of the night.  
Crickets, grasshoppers, the breeze, the-faint-but-still-there smell of flowers.  
He was glad to be alive.  
  
Yea and? she asked, thinking it was very odd for the houshi to be looking _away_ from her at such close proximity.   
  
Well . . . I feel, a bit . . . he stopped, knowing he'd sound very foolish.  
  
Well what is it?!? Sango whispered urgently, even though a whisper, Miroku could tell that she was practically dieing in impertinence.   
He grinned.  
  
Well . . .  
  
Well WHAT?  
  
Well . . .  
  
WHAT **IS** IT MIROKU?  
  
Well . . .  
  
KAMI DAMN IT WHAT **_IS_** IT?  
  
he said simply, and chuckled, seeing how furious Sango was.  
  
Grrrrr! Fine then! **I'M** leaving! she scowled at him, then got up and started to stop off when she felt a gloved hand catch her wrist.  
  
Turning around fast, she was about to rip off the houshi's hand off of her's, when she heard him say quietly, and with much sincerity,   
I'm sorry Sango, for making you angry, I will tell you now.  
  
Plunking down next to him with purpose rudeness, she mumbled:  
You damn well better tell me what up with you houshi, or I'll . . .  
  
The rest was gratefully inaudible, even though he had heard it before.  
  
I'm depressed he said bluntly, embarrassed, or so he thought he didn't show it.  
  
Sango had known him too long for her not be able to read though his masks.  
She wasn't, to say the least, impressed.  
Hell, she was depressed all the time!  
Having your village, your life, your loved ones, being killed and demolished, did that to you.  
  
she testified, wondering if _that_ was all, and it showed though her voice.  
  
I'm depressed about me . . . being old he said in almost a whisper, sadness creeping in to his voice, no matter how much he tried to hide it.  
  
Dear Kami Miroku! You're _twenty_ years old! That isn't old at all! she said, the ridiculousness of the situation getting to her.  
What was so depressing about getting another year older?  
  
Miroku sighed.  
It was worthless telling her.  
She just didn't understand.  
  
Never mind then he grumpily muttered, and got up to leave, when roles where reversed, Sango telling him that she was sorry, and tugging on his wrist for him to sit back down.  
  
He sighed again.  
He could try.  
Again.  
  
Well I feel so . . . old I guess he said, looking at her, pain evident in  
his eyes.  
  
Miroku, your not old she said gently, placing her hand over his in a reassuring gesture.  
  
It worked.  
  
Sango . . . Miroku said and looked down at their hands, and intertwined their fingers together, soothing him.  
Sango blushed deeply at the movement, but ushered him to go on, thanking Kami that it was dark and he couldn't see her face too well.  
  
Could you, check for gray hairs he rushed softly, obvious that he didn't want her to here that, yet at the same time, he did.  
  
Resisting the urge to sweatdrop, Sango obliged, smiling and rolling her eyes at the same time.  
Miroku felt a tad ashamed to have asked her such a question, but patently waited for her to finish pawing though his hair as gently as her Taiji-Ya trained hands could.  
Sango felt like a mother looking though her child's room, trying to find  
imaginary demons lurking in the dark.   
  
There are no gray hairs Houshi-sama, she said, trying to suppress a laugh.  
  
You sure? he asked shyly, further enforcing the image of mother and child into Sango's brain.  
  
Kissing his forehead lightly (getting caught up in the mother child fantasy; for she had always wanted to have children when she grew up)   
Yes, I'm sure, so why don't you go and get some sleep now, OK? she chirped, giving him a huge motherly smile.  
  
He felt like a little boy again, being caught by his mother and being sent back to bed.   
If he fell asleep right now and she carried him back to his room (for he  
knew she had the strength to) and tucked him into his futon, he wouldn't be surprised.  
With that thought in mind (and he being such a good actor and having a tad too big of an ego) he promptly started to pretend he was asleep.  
  
Getting up and starting to put the training gear away, she found that Miroku had fallen asleep on the bench.  
Usually, she would have just left him there for his white robe to be soaked by the morning dew, but since she was (somewhat) touched that he had chosen her to confine to (and with that mother/child impression still fresh in her mind) she walked towards him, planning on picking him up and placing him back in his room, when she saw his grin.  
  
But it wasn't just any grin.  
It was _that_ grin.  
The one he wore when he was planning something.  
A grin she knew _all_ to well.  
  
Now she grinned.  
Well, good night Houshi-sama! she laughed, tossing her hair over on shoulder as she turned away from him and walked towards the house (he had managed to rent them a house for that night after seeing that the ground was wet last night).  
  
Damn it!  
She knew!  
But what was she doing? Miroku thought as he sneaked an eyelid open, his purple eye watching her every move.  
As she went in, he heard a click.  
It sounded as if she had locked him out.  
She wouldn't do that, would she?  
He walked over quickly to door and tried to open it.  
  
She had.  
  
That was what she had met by: Good night, Houshi-sama!  
Arrg!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**AN: Yay! I hope you had as much fun reading that as I did, writing it! Silly Houshi-sama, don't you know not to mess with the beautiful Taiji-Ya? Tee hee hee . . .   
Oh yea, as a side note thing, I do think Sango would be able to lift up Miroku and bring him to his room, I mean, she has been training to be a demon slayer all her life! I think she could at least pick up him! Although, I do admit, his is pretty well built . . . but I think I save that for another conversation, no? (Like one about Bishounen . . .) But before I get even more side tracked, I hope you liked this fic, and don't for get to review! (Ya' know, hitting that little button down there and telling me if you liked it or didn't . . .)  
  
Bye bye for now! (As in, see you next fic!)  
warriorGL**


	2. I Never Thought It's Sango?

  
  
  
  
  
  
**Miroku's Birth Day (a one shot which you'll never hear off again)**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Miroku sighed heavily as he fully awoke himself with a splash of cold water from the river.  
  
It was his birth day.  
  
As he looked in the rushing river, he thought of what he had done in his life.  
He sighed again.  
Nothing much' he answered his question.  
  
Walking back to the camp they (Inu & co) had made last night, he realized something else:  
He was old.  
Not Kade-baba's kind of old, but he certainty _was_ older than his four companions.  
  
He sighed again.  
For a birth day, he wasn't having much fun! he thought as he sat down on a log at camp.  
  
Sango awoke with Miroku's depressed sighs.  
He was starting to get on her nerves.  
But when she saw that forlorn expression plastered upon his face, her annoyance evaporated instantaneously.  
Yawning and streaching to show him that she was awake, she asked sleepily:   
What's up with you?.  
  
He answered (with another sigh):  
It's my birth day and I'm feeling depressed.  
He didn't know WHY he had just said that to her, but it made him feel better.  
A _little_ anyway.  
  
Sango blinked ,and, since it **was** morning after all, expressed her opinion with out consulting her brain first.  
  
  
He looked up at her, surprised.  
He would feel **very **stupid if he answered her question with truth.  
So he lied.  
No reason  
  
Again, since it was morning, her need for more sleep made her quite frank and sharp, as was observed in her retaliation to his answer'.  
she pressed, voice hard, and with a tone that clearly said: answer me correctly and I'll let you live'.  
  
He grinned at her grumpiness, and for the first time that morning, felt a little happy, so he decided to tell her.  
  
Promise you wont laugh?  
  
Yea. Sure. Whatever  
  
I'm serious Sango-san  
  
I said yea! Go ahead!  
  
He smiled weakly.  
I feel old  
  
Silence.  
  
You're not old, said Inu Yasha, leaping down from his tree.  
  
A question mark appeared over Miroku's head, as did Sango's.  
  
Hell _I'm _455 years old! he stated proudly, like a little boy dose when boasting.  
  
Miroku sweatdroped as Sango bust Inu Yasha's bubble by saying the truth about it:  
In dog years _and _if you count the 50 years you where pinned to a tree: _Asleep _no less!_  
  
_Inu Yasha fehed' in reply and went to the same river as houshi had done previously to wash his face.  
  
Getting out of her blankets, Sango joined Miroku on the log, sitting close to him.  
  
Aw come _on_ Miroku, you can't be _that _old! she said cheerfully.  
  
Miroku frowned.  
Then guess how old I am he retorted sulkingly.  
He wasn't really sulking any longer, he was just curious.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
You're 20?!? she practically screamed, surprised, almost falling off the log.  
  
_Jeez_ Sango-san, you don't have to rub it in! he laughed at her shock.  
  
You're 20 Miroku-sama? said Kagome, Shipoo and Inu Yasha; Kagome and Shipoo had woken up by Sango's loud mouth, Inu Yasha had chosen that moment to come back.  
  
Sango sweatdroped as Miroku chuckled:  
Can't keep _anything_ a secret around here, while partly glaring at Sango from the corners of his eyes.  
  
Sango gulped guiltily and looked down at her hands (which where resting in her lap) as if they where the most interesting thing in the world.  
  
Silence (again)  
  
Well, uh . . . Happy Birth Day Houshi-sama! said Sango with faltering happiness, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a _very_ quick hug before going off to wash _her_ face.  
  
Silence (yet again)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And so the characters of Inu Yasha return to their normal' lives.  
  
  
  
  
**THE END  
  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: Don't ask. After my birth day and reading too many S/M fics, I wrote this. ^_^;**


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